


Robert Plant’s Manual on Playing the Long Game

by acacia59



Series: The How-to Series on Threesomes [4]
Category: Led Zeppelin, The Who
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acacia59/pseuds/acacia59
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Plant knows how to be patient…and how to have a little fun in the meantime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Robert Plant’s Manual on Playing the Long Game

Robert Plant thought his life was going swimmingly, all things considered. He couldn’t help humming a jaunty tune to himself as he cracked the egg he was holding and added the contents to the others in the bowl. Two nights in a row things had worked out exactly as he had wanted and had been quite enjoyable to boot. He frowned as he regarded the eggs and went rummaging in Jimmy’s drawers in search of a fork.

 

He chuckled quietly at the unintended double entendre. Although he would much rather rummage in Jimmy’s drawers for a sausage, _if you catch my drift_. He found a suitable utensil and started to beat the eggs with a practiced hand. _A big, thick sausage._

 

He put a pan on the stove and stretched slowly and sensually as he waited for it to heat up. He concentrated on the feel of his body, noting with pleasure the parts that had that good, satisfying soreness that comes with exercise. _Yes, last night was definitely a success_. He remembered the gratifying surprise in Jimmy’s eyes when he tied the fickle guitarist down. He remembered the feel of the other man, hot and tight as he sank into him, his body rigid and wanting it. Robert cleared his throat and looked down at the stove with renewed focus. He tested the pan with a bit of butter and then added his eggs when he was satisfied. Jimmy might think that he had Robert all figured out, but the blond had more than a few tricks up his sleeve. Or up his skin tight jeans, as it were.

 

Even Pete had played his part well. It was a bit nerve-racking to let so much hang on the participation of someone outside of your control, but the other guitarist had performed perfectly. So well in fact that Robert had been taken with matchmaking flights of fancy. There was no need to be selfish, really. Robert rather thought himself clever enough to make sure this whole plot worked out well for multiple pairs.

 

Roger couldn’t have possibly called with better timing. Robert sighed happily and shook the pan to loosen the cooked bits of egg from the bottom. At his core, he was a hopeless romantic and the thought of those two, obviously in love, making up after their big fight was just too perfect. _Maybe it will start raining. Maybe they will be wearing something linen and white. Now, Robert, don’t get carried away,_ he scolded himself, _that’s not part of the plan._

Salt and pepper turned out to be a bigger challenge than sticking to the plan. He finally found a guitar and drum-shaped set of shakers shoved behind a forlorn waffle maker in the top cupboard. An obvious unloved gift from some spinster auntie, no doubt. _Better than nothing_ , he thought with a shrug as he seasoned the eggs that were setting up nicely.

 

“What are you doing?” Robert glanced up and saw Jimmy standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking like something the cat dragged in. He yawned hugely, made an attempt to tame his hair and then returned to peering suspiciously at the intruder in his kitchen.

 

“Making breakfast. Like a gentleman suitor would.” On cue, he heard Jimmy’s snort from behind him but concentrated on folding his omelet with a quick flip of the pan. “There’s coffee if you like,” he said, nodding at the carafe on the table.

 

“Oh, God, yes,” Jimmy said, sitting down with a heaved sigh. “It’s bad when you find yourself empathizing with Bonzo’s drum kit. I didn’t even know I _had_ some of these muscles.”

 

“You should stretch beforehand. That would help,” Robert remarked as he slid the omelet onto a pre-warmed plate he had stashed in the oven. He set the plate in front of Jimmy and started on a second omelet.

 

Jimmy was gaping at him, “You’re not serious…that is…you didn’t stretch?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Robert said earnestly. Jimmy shook his head in amazement. “I always do before any physical exertion. It really helps. You know, you really ought to take better care of yourself, Jim.”

 

“Huh, that’s rich,” Jimmy looked down at his plate, as though finally realizing what he was eating. “Hey, this is really good.”

 

“Know how to tie a tie and make a damn good omelet, I always say.”

 

“You are a complete loon, do you know that?” his bandmate replied.

 

Robert slid into the chair across from Jimmy, making sure their legs rubbed together beneath the little bistro table. He let his hair fall across his bare chest just _so_ and looked up at the other man from behind a loose tendril. He parted his lips slightly and allowed Jimmy to catch just the briefest glimpse of tongue. “You love it,” he husked with a smirk.

 

Jimmy watched him open-mouthed for a moment before sniffing the air and asking, “Is something burning?”

 

Robert swore and leaped up to rescue his breakfast. Jimmy chuckled and commented, “Last night was quite brilliant, you know. Pete was…” Jimmy drifted off, lost in thought. “You almost ruined it all at the end, though. I hope Pete doesn’t get too silly and emotional from your blunder. Roger could join us next time if it matters so much to him and you could keep him entertained and out of my way.”

 

Robert was plating his omelet and so he had a moment to compose himself before having to turn and face Jimmy. He didn’t like to admit how much Jimmy’s casual dismissals always hurt. _I’m not asking for a public declaration of everlasting love here,_ he thought, slamming his plate down on the table harder than he’d meant. Jimmy was pitching into his breakfast with gusto, the low-slanting morning light catching the gloss of his hair and sparking rose and gold in a way that made Robert catch his breath and swallow back hard. _Just a ‘hey, Robert, you were a good fuck last night, let’s do that again.’_

 

“Yeah, sure thing, Jim.” Robert picked at the scorched eggs, suddenly not feeling hungry any more. He had noticed this happening more and more, somehow a casual remark or certain expression made by the older man could derail his mood for days.

 

“I didn’t expect that you…” Jimmy coughed and averted his eyes from Robert. He busied himself with a hard swallow of coffee that Robert know was probably too hot to drink like that. “Well, anyway, last night was great.”

 

Robert supposed that was all he was going to get from Jimmy as far as praise went. Nonetheless, he found himself grinning back at him like a fool, a dog getting yanked about by Jimmy’s chain. _God, I need to get out of here. Maybe in public, I will be able to keep my shit together for one damn afternoon._

 

He thought hard. He knew that he couldn’t allow Jimmy to get off on his own devices, there was no telling the trouble he would get into if he were allowed out of Robert’s supervision. Inspiration struck as he remembered a flyer he had seen. “Come on, let’s go out. I think that Jimi Hendrix is playing tonight. I’m sure Peter can get us tickets.”

 

“And what about from now until then?”

 

“Oh, just come on. It’ll be fun.” Robert tried to keep his tone light and not like he wanted Jimmy’s company too much. “You need to relax and not be so serious all the time. I know this great little pub…it’s close to these shops, you’ll love them, totally hip…”

 

“You want to go shopping together?” Jimmy said, incredulous.

 

“Jimmy, seriously? You love shopping.”

 

“Well, I have been wanting to find a cool…”

 

“That settles it!” Robert grabbed Jimmy’s wrist and half-yanked him off the chair. “We’re going!”

 

***

 

“Roger Daltrey is here! You knew! What are you planning? Don’t try to be so clever, Perce, it doesn’t suit you.”

 

Robert thought that of all the places he’d hoped to be tonight—a classy hotel with champagne chilling, a beautiful overlook in the back of a limo or, hell, just Jimmy’s bed again—none of them had included being stuffed in a disused storage closet missing a Jimi Hendrix concert while a spitting mad Jimmy Page shouted at him. _Jimmy can be so dense_ , he thought as he purposefully tuned out the guitarist’s tirade, _it’s obvious why Roger is here. He came to find us for revenge sex. Jimmy would probably like it if he tried it._

By the time Robert started listening again, Jimmy had moved on to insulting his mother and he figured he’d better divert this particular runaway train. “Calm down,” he said soothingly. “Let’s just go enjoy the show. I’m not sure what you are you angry about anyway.”

 

“So angry about?!” Jimmy sputtered. “Haven’t you been listening?”

 

“Honestly? No.” He grabbed Jimmy’s wrist. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

Jimmy pulled away but he couldn’t escape the bigger man. “Oh, no you don’t…”

 

Opening the door while managing the reluctant guitarist took most of Robert’s attention and so he didn’t notice Roger Daltrey on the threshold with fist raised to knock until he had nearly crashed into him. He managed to stop in time but Jimmy’s momentum didn’t allow him to do the same. The pair collided with the shorter man with an impressive flailing for balance and tangle of limbs.

 

“Hendrix said you were in here,” Roger said, picking himself up off the floor, face red and out of breath from more than the impact.

 

“What are you doing here?” Jimmy snapped, brushing off his shirt with disgust.

 

The crowd had quickly enveloped the trio and Robert tried to shepherd everyone into a quieter corner. “Hey, how about I get everybody a drink, we watch the show, discuss things calmly…”

 

“You had _no_ business taking advantage of Pete that way. He was drunk, he wasn’t thinking clearly…” Roger shouted, a bit more loudly than the noise of the venue warranted.

 

“One could say the same to you, Daltrey,” Jimmy sneered.

 

“Umm, yeah, drinks, I think that would be best. Not that I’m trying to take advantage of anyone, haha, umm…” Robert edged away but Roger and Jimmy didn’t spare him a glance.

 

He ordered some pints, chafing at the bartender’s speed and then headed back to where they’d been. He stopped dead when he saw the empty corner.

 

Robert craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Jimmy in the crowd. _I turn my back for one second…I swear, that man._ Even the advantage of his height was no help. He caught the eye of a skinny dark-haired young man with funny teeth.

 

“Isn’t he just great? This music…his presence…” Recognition dawned in the man’s face. “Wait, you’re…”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I am. Look, kid, have you seen Jimmy Page or Roger Daltrey around?”

 

“Jimmy Page? _Roger Daltrey?!_ ” he gasped.

 

“I’ll take that as a no then,” Robert said sardonically and pushed past, pressing the pints into the man’s hands. _Hmm, where would I have ended up if I was a neurotic guitarist shouting at a hotheaded lover scorned with an aversion to making a scene?_

 

He spied a door marked ‘loading dock’ just in the sight line of where he had left the pair. _Bingo_. He weaved through the crowd to the empty back hallway and reached out to open the door.

 

“Hey! You can’t go back there!”

 

Robert let go of the door and spun around. A burly security guard with no apparent neck was shouting at him. He sighed and drew himself up. “Do you even know who I am? I’m Robert Plant and I can go where I like.” He found that even if people didn’t recognize the name, they tended to react to the tone.

 

The man hesitated. “Well…”

 

Robert didn’t wait for him to complete his thought. He pushed the door open and was through before the guard could blink. He found himself at the top of a small stairway leading down into a dark alleyway, lit only by a humming sodium vapor lamp over his head. To his left and roughly level with where he was standing, a narrow loading dock jutted out into the alley.

 

The loading dock was deserted except for a pair of light and dark figures, standing close and talking loudly.

 

“Go home, Roger,” Jimmy said, oozing condescension with just the slightest veneer of malice. “Pete’s a big boy now, old enough to make his own decisions about who he wants to fuck without input from you.” Jimmy turned to walk away past Roger but then stopped to cast one last barb back at the singer. “And he wants to fuck _me_.”

 

Roger grabbed Jimmy’s wrist and pulled him back from the door. “Pete may be _old_ enough to make his decisions, but that doesn’t mean he _can_ ,” he retorted.

 

“Look, maybe you and Pete fumbled around a little bit. But what he and I made was _art_ and maybe you should leave art to the real musicians, hmm, Daltrey?”

 

Robert blinked from the venom in Jimmy’s voice and therefore missed seeing Roger respond with a blow that knocked the taller man down to ground. Jimmy swore loudly and tried to scramble to his feet. He finally managed, breathing heavily and leaning on the wall for support. He was grinning too widely for a man who had just been knock arse over tit and Robert recognized that maniacal gleam in his eyes. Roger didn’t know it, but he was playing right into Jimmy’s hand.

 

“Is that all you got? You know, I rather thought more of your prowess from the rumors floating around, but people exaggerate, don’t they?” Jimmy taunted with a high pitched laugh.

 

“Fuck you,” Roger snarled and the second hit landed with a resounding smack that echoed through the little alley. Jimmy collapsed into crumpled up pile and this time stayed down. Robert took a few involuntary steps forward in concern and wound up pressed against the railing, his fingers tightening around the rusty bar. He decided to intervene if it looked like there would be any more punching. The last thing he needed was a severely concussed bandmate.

 

Roger hesitated a moment and then took a step forward towards his victim. Jimmy groaned and started to stir. He pulled himself into a half-kneeling, half-crouching position and looked up, bleary-eyed, but still smiling faintly. Robert and Roger noticed Jimmy’s erection, visibly outlined in his loose trousers, at very nearly the same time, Robert with resignation and Roger with a horrified recoil.

 

“You disgust me.”

 

Jimmy spat blood on the stained concrete. “Oh, I disgust you? At least I know what I want. I don’t pretend that it is leggy birds starting their modeling careers when it’s actually moody guitarists with _problems_.”

 

Roger grabbed his shirt and bodily lifted him up to slam him against the building. The crack that rang out from Jimmy’s head striking the wall made Robert wince. _Don’t break my guitarist_ , he thought hard at Roger.

 

The two men held still for a moment, pressed together against the wall, both of them breathing heavily. A trickle of blood from Jimmy’s split lip glistened blackly in the orange light from the alleyway. The tension was palpable and Robert wondered if they were going to go on fighting or start shagging each other. He gave it even odds.

 

“I want what Pete had,” Roger finally said in a low growl.

 

The guitarist’s eyes widened. “You can’t handle what Pete had.”

 

“You might be surprised.”

 

Robert wasn’t sure who moved first. Roger might have suddenly crouched in front of Jimmy, grabbing his hips and shoving them into the wall or Jimmy might have put his hands around Roger’s neck and pushed him down. Whatever happened, there was a sudden struggle with belts and trousers resulting in a pale flash of flesh in the dim light.

 

 _Well,_ Robert thought, spirits starting to lift again, _this has taken a turn for the better. See, you should just relax. The universe has a tendency to go your way._ He watched with interest as Roger took Jimmy whole into his mouth.

 

Jimmy didn’t move for a moment and Robert found himself holding his breath. And then Roger pulled back, cheeks hollowed and Jimmy let out a quiet whimper that nonetheless echoed against the low buildings. Robert released his breath in a little happy hum.

 

Roger had one hand gripped tightly around the base of Jimmy’s cock and the other was grasping Jimmy’s thigh for support. Robert could see the tension in that hand, how the tendons stood out plainly and the shadowed hollows Roger’s fingertips made in Jimmy’s flesh as he tightened his grip. Jimmy hissed in pain and tried to buck forward, but Roger kept the slighter man pressed against the dirty alleyway cinderblocks.

 

Robert was aware of but trying to ignore an insistence growing in his trousers. The discomfort slightly alleviated his blooming arousal, but not nearly enough and it was clear that he would some have to do something about it. He shifted and succumbed to the pressure, undoing his belt buckle.

 

He must have made some sound. Jimmy looked up and saw Robert standing there, watching the two of them. Roger shifted slightly and Jimmy gasped, throwing his head back and exposing his pale throat. Robert thought about how lovely he looked, how the moonlight and the streetlights suited him so well, exaggerating his darkness and delicate features, making him seem unworldly, fey and not quite human.

 

Biting his lower lip where it was torn, Jimmy kept his head thrown back and stared down his nose at Robert from under dark lashes. Robert, slowly and with trembling hands, pulled down the zipper on his fly. Feeling unnaturally self-conscience, he shimmied out of his trousers, pushing them down just far enough to allow easy access.

 

Jimmy’s eyes had still not broken the shared gaze with Robert. As their locked stare lengthened, it intensified, until Robert wasn’t sure if there was anything else in the world except Jimmy’s grey eyes nearly taken over by the dark pools of his pupils, the soft noises Roger was making and his own insistent need. He delicately grasped his cock, unable to tell if it or his hands burned with greater fire. The contact made him inhale sharply and close his eyes, breaking the connection with Jimmy. The guitarist’s eyes slid downward and fixed on what Robert’s hands were doing.

 

Robert stroked himself in time to Jimmy’s thrusts and the movements of Roger’s head. There was no showmanship in his display, for all that Jimmy was watching him now, eyes widened. If he was going to wank off in a dirty alley, there was no room for finesse. His hand was slicked with precome, providing some measure of relief from the friction, but sticky in between his fingers where it had begun to dry.

 

His world narrowed to this landing, his hand and the dichotomy of the pair opposite. Every deep moan Jimmy made, every hitching gasp Roger let out as Jimmy pulled out piled up together and drove Robert closer to the breaking point. He could tell from the tension in Jimmy’s hands, clutching fruitlessly at the wall, that he was close as well. He wanted to urge Roger on, to tell him to suck harder, to make the aloof guitarist’s self-possession shatter to pieces.

 

Roger moved his hand that was gripping Jimmy’s cock and thrust it between his legs. He pulled back for a moment to catch his breath and Robert could just barely see him seize Jimmy’s balls with a firm hold that would delicately skirt the line into pain. Jimmy bucked forward, Roger swallowed him to the root and Robert came all over his hand and off the edge of the landing with a loud cry.

 

Jimmy watched Robert’s cock until he had wrung the last drop from it and then he too was coming, quieter and with his head thrown back. Roger licked him clean and then rested his head for a moment against Jimmy’s thigh. More or less collected, he stood up and turned to face Robert.

 

“Thought it sounded like you.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Robert gestured helplessly at the mess he had made.

 

“Robert, car, now,” Roger said in a low voice. A straining bulge in his trousers underscored his urgency.

 

“Jimmy?” Robert asked quietly. His bandmate opened his eyes slightly and gave the barest of nods. Robert sighed and did up his trousers again. “Well, I suppose this is where the perks of stardom kick in.” He walked out of the alley to find his driver leaning against the limousine where he and Jimmy had left him, smoking a cigarette. When he saw the trio, he dropped the smoke and stubbed it out with a polished boot toe.

 

“Where to, boss?” the man asked, holding the back door open.

 

Robert liked this driver. He was discreet, unlike the last one that the singer had had to fire after he had gone mouthing off to the tabloids. “Home,” Robert paused before following the others in and shrugged apologetically. “And, mate? A word of advice, take the long way and keep the divider up.”

 

Robert was stripping Roger of his clothes before the limo pulled away. His quick orgasm had taken the edge off and left him feeling loose and relaxed. He wasn’t nearly ready to come again but the thought of being filled with Roger’s lovely cock, the thought of Jimmy watching as they both slowly became ready for another go themselves had his skin crawling with nervous anticipation. And Roger did look particularly fetching tonight with his curls in slight disarray from where Jimmy had grabbed them, his lips flush and swollen.

 

A sudden turn of the vehicle tossed him half into Roger’s lap, half-undressed. He looked into the man’s deep blue eyes, close enough to feel his breath and smell his leather and wild animal musk. “What do you want?”

 

“To fuck you,” Roger replied with just a hint of tremor.

 

Robert forced himself not to look for Jimmy’s reaction. “I was rather hoping you’d say that.”

 

A clumsy shuffle and a few curse words later, Robert was kneeling over the seat that ran the length of the limo, arse in the air and head nearly in Jimmy’s lap. Roger was crouched behind him and now Robert allowed himself to stare at Jimmy, while the anticipation of not being able to see exactly what Roger was doing built. Jimmy’s eyes flickered as they ran over the planes of both their naked bodies.

 

Robert hear a faint smack and then saliva-slicked fingers pressed at his entrance. He gasped as he tried to control his breathing, relaxing into the rough slide of Roger’s poorly lubricated thrust. Each hitch burned, each sudden give built up pleasure until he hit Robert’s prostate and then he didn’t even mind the fire anymore.

 

One finger worked its way into two and then three. Robert could just make out the sounds of Roger stroking himself. Picturing him slicking his cock with his own precome, hand sliding his foreskin back over the swollen head, made Robert’s knees tremble and hold his arse up even more wantonly.

 

“Get on with it,” Jimmy ordered abruptly.

 

“But it’s not nearly eno—“

 

“He can take it.” Robert shivered at the dueling steel and arousal in Jimmy’s voice. It made him want penetration more than ever. He wanted to see Jimmy’s expression as the other golden haired singer took him here in the back seat of his preposterous car. He felt the nudge of Roger’s cock against that puckered hole and took a deep breath.

 

Roger entered him smoothly and inexorably. His progress was neither slow enough to give Robert the chance to come to terms with the sensations that were hammering up his spine and into his brain nor was it fast enough to get it over with like a ripped off plaster.

 

The look on Jimmy’s face did not disappoint. His eyes were wide and unblinking and his mouth trembled between hanging open dumbstruck and a sly grin.

 

“Oh, fuck. I think I am beginning to see the appeal,” he muttered.

 

“Oh, really?” Robert managed to gasp out over the sensation of his internal organs being rearranged to all seemingly jumble against his prostate.

 

Jimmy started as he realized he had spoken out loud. “I mean, for you to want him…of course it is unbelievably narcissistic. But for a neutral observer…all that hair…nhgg,” Jimmy swallowed the rest of his words as Roger’s next thrust pushed Robert into a kiss that was more of a clash, all bruising teeth and wrong angles. The impact set Jimmy’s split lip bleeding again and Robert tasted the blood on his tongue at the same instant he saw Jimmy’s eyes light up with passion. _Robert, you’re in love with a man who gets aroused being beaten up in a filthy alley._ Jimmy kissed him again, this time slower but no less forceful. Instinctively, Robert ended the kiss by delicately biting and then pulling back on Jimmy’s lower lip and was rewarded with a deep moan from the other man. _This is never going to end well_.

 

Roger shifted and pushed Robert’s hips down. He then drove in more deeply than before and the penetration sent sparks flying in Robert’s brain. “Oh, fuck me!” he shouted into Jimmy’s mouth, who opened his eyes to catch the show. Roger began hitting Robert’s prostate with a regularity and ferocity that left Robert unable to support himself. His arms collapsed but Jimmy caught him and started kissing his neck, long sucking and biting kisses that were sure to bruise. He knew that he couldn’t come, it was too soon and besides the sensations that Roger was sending rocketing through him were far too intense. He had to concentrate on just breathing and on forcing himself not to beg for the other man to stop.

 

Without being fully aware, he had begun tensing against the onslaught more and more. “Oh, shit,” Roger called out. “Oh, bloody fuck.” Then he drove in one last time and collapsed on top of Robert. Robert’s already precarious balance went completely in the face of this structural strain and they collapsed into a sweaty pile of pulsing cocks, tangled hair and Jimmy Page.

 

For a few moments he concentrated on breathing and enjoying that delicately painful sensation of Roger unwinding inside of him. When he finally slipped out, Robert assessed and determined that he felt good, still fresh and beginning the process of recharging, his half-hard cock nestled against Jimmy’s ankle.

 

They had finished the most rudimentary of clean ups when Robert felt the car come to a stop. “I think we’ve arrived,” he commented casually, trying to find an assortment of clothes that would provide the most basic of decency on the short trip from the car to the house. He tossed Roger some pants and tried to find his own for a minute before remembering that he never wore the bloody things. He looked at his too tight trousers in consternation. It was a struggle to get them on in the best of circumstances, let alone the crowded back seat of limo while he was sticky with sweat and come.

 

Jimmy watched their clumsy progress with amusement. When finally Roger was in pants and a t-shirt and Robert had got himself mostly into his jeans, he said abruptly, “Stop dilly dallying and let’s get inside.”

 

“Dilly dallying? Let’s see you try and get into these jeans,” Robert grumbled.

 

Jimmy huffed. “Last time I checked, no-one was forcing you to wear impractical clothing.”

 

“Says the man with the dry clean only stage garb that stains as soon as you _think_ about sweating in it.”

 

They continued to bicker good naturedly as Robert dismissed his driver and they went into Robert’s house and into the living room. Robert noted Roger watching their squabbling with a kind of bemused recognition. He also noticed that someone had left the little wet bar in the corner of the room well stocked and he strolled over to fix them all some drinks.

 

Robert focused on making the drinks to give himself some time to gather up his composure and relish the feeling of his building arousal. It was at a nearly perfect point right now, enough that anticipation was making him break out in goose pimples but still at a low simmer so that there was no urgency to get it all over with. He smiled to himself and turned to the other two, drinks in hand.

 

Jimmy accepted his with a faint moan and pressed the side of the cold highball to his face. It was red and swollen and just starting to purple under his eye. Roger came over to take his drink. He sipped it slowly, watching the two members of Led Zeppelin cautiously.

 

“You’re looking a bit ragged there,” Robert said to Jimmy with a laugh and a smirk to disguise the fact that he was trying to ask if Jimmy was alright.

 

Jimmy raised one eyebrow, slowly and precisely. Robert felt his cock start to take a firm interest in the proceedings. “Oh, I am just getting started,” he said, low and amused. He eyes flicked away from Robert to Roger and he smiled. “You said you wanted what Pete had.” Roger took a step backwards at the tone in Jimmy’s voice. Robert didn’t blame him, it sounded like honey poured out over rusty nails, it sounded dangerous and oh, so very delicious all at once. “Hit me again.” Jimmy downed half the gin and tonic in a gulp and slunk away to the sofa, shedding his clothes in some sort of anti-strip tease. He removed each article in such a careless and yet determinedly un-sexy way that of course it had Robert breathing heavily. He got onto the piece of furniture on all fours and then stretched like a cat, no, like a wolf, arse in the air lewdly.

 

“What?” Roger looked dazed.

 

“Have Robert show you.”

 

Raw energy surged through him, descending from the top of his head to his fingertips as quickly as a lightning bolt. It felt like that intense nervous fear you felt when the thing you had been dreading was now unavoidable or that spike of adrenaline when you missed a step but right before falling. He walked unsteadily to the coat closet and fished out a thick leather belt, unsure whether to be pleased or terrified that he always knew so easily what Jimmy wanted.

 

Jimmy was watching him as he approached the sofa, a slight smug smile half-hidden in the cushions. Robert was taken by a sudden desire to wipe that smirk off the other man’s face, to have him prostrate and pleading beneath him. He folded the belt in two and, with a short backhand, brought it whistling down on the proffered bottom.

 

“Fuck!”

 

“Huh, you asked for it. Don’t go all soft on me now.”

 

“Soft?” Jimmy panted. “No risk of that.”

 

This was indeed true. Jimmy’s cock hung down below him, weeping and purple and looking as if it was about to do him an injury. Robert swallowed thickly and brought the belt down again, aiming for the tender crease between his thighs and the bottom curve of his arse. The blow landed with a satisfying crack and Jimmy exhaled something through his gritted teeth that might have been a curse or might have been a plea.

 

He fell into something of a rhythm. He concentrated on the pattern of stripes he was laying down and an uneven, staccato beat.

 

  1. He had landed a particularly stinging blow. “Oh, fuck…oh, stop. I—I can’t…” Jimmy sobbed. Robert paused and waited, his eyes tracing the lines of Jimmy body, how his back arched and shoulders heaved as he tried to catch his breath. “ _God_. Pl—lease, please hit me again.”



 

He handed the belt to Roger with a quizzical tilt of his eyebrow. Roger took it reluctantly and stared at the leather strap before looking back up at Robert. “This is some bloody fucked up shit.”

 

Robert laughed. He could feel his erection pressing hot and tight against the constraining fabric of his jeans and he knew that it hadn’t flagged at all as he had brought the belt down on Jimmy. “It takes all kinds, I suppose.”

 

He had a sudden whim and started tugging on Roger’s shirt. Roger stared at him with those pretty, wide blue eyes for a moment before pulling the shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor. Then he took the belt and swung it down on Jimmy, his muscles jumping and clearly visible in his back and shoulders. _Beautiful_ , Robert thought.

 

The belt landed with more force than Robert had managed and Jimmy collapsed down onto the sofa with an inarticulate cry. Roger dropped his arm and stepped back in consternation. Then he set his jaw and shrugged and slapped the back of Jimmy’s thighs with the belt. “Get up. You asked for this and you will be done when we tell you.”

 

Jimmy started laughing, high and slightly crazed, into the sofa cushions. Then he heaved himself back up just as Roger landed another blow. His arms wobbled but he stayed up and he stayed up though several more until Robert felt nearly ready to intervene. Finally, Roger cast down the belt, breathing heavily and looked at Robert expectantly.

 

There was something Robert had been meaning to try. “Hold on, I want to show you something.” He went back over to the bar and retrieved the ice bucket. “My bedroom.” Jimmy groaned in protest and their eyes locked for a moment. Robert was caught off guard and saw a faint quizzical line crease Jimmy’s brow as he took in Robert’s expression. Then he recovered himself and cocked an eyebrow at the dark man, replacing any honest emotion in his eyes with a veneer of glib innuendo. “I will make it worth the effort, I promise.”

 

Once upstairs, leaving a trail of clothes behind them, he pulled Roger down on the bed, ignoring Jimmy for the moment. He tried to will away everything that was distracting him, the nebulous worry about future scenarios that may or may not come to fruition, the hot arousal that had taken over him hitting Jimmy, and tried to concentrate on kissing his fellow frontman. It occurred to him that it was actually quite enjoyable. Roger was surprisingly one hell of a kisser, managing the delicate balance between aggression and reticence. As he pulled Roger down to lay next to him on the bed, he was enveloped in his amber and buckskin scent, thinking about how good it was to just enjoy this without any play for dominance or submission.

 

He pulled away reluctantly and gently pushed Roger over onto his stomach. He got up and went over to Jimmy, who had been watching them, rapt. “Careful not to drool there,’ he said sardonically and Jimmy shut his mouth with a snap. “Now get over there and kiss his ass.”

 

“What?”

 

“So all that and we still haven’t taught you to be polite?” Robert landed a ringing slap on Jimmy’s abused rear. He howled and jumped forward reflexively, a motion that Robert helped along with a careful shove. Jimmy landed nearly face first into Roger and Robert settled back down onto the bed, kneeling between Jimmy’s legs.

 

He started to massage Jimmy’s arse, firm strokes full of friction that would build the burn he has already started. “Get to work up there,” he ordered and to his surprise, Jimmy complied with a sobbing breath, licking Roger from balls to entrance and driving out a yelp of pleasure.

 

Robert continued his own work, alternating rubbing with small strikes and light nips until tremors were running all over the surface of Jimmy’s body. He fetched the ice bucket from the floor, delighted to see Jimmy tense as his weight shifted on the bed. The bucket contained large shards of glass, broken with a hammer, and Robert selected a squarish one about the size of his palm. He slowly started gliding the ice over the worst of the marks on Jimmy, the heat of his skin leaving a thin film of water over his bruises. Jimmy shuddered in surprise at the cold touch but then moaned and relaxed into the numbing solace that the ice was providing.

 

Robert followed the ice with his tongue wherever the pooled water threatened to roll down Jimmy’s sides. Sometimes he let the frozen chunk stay in one spot, until he imagined the burn of the cold would merge with and amplify the burn of his blows and Jimmy was squirming away from it. He parted Jimmy’s cheeks with one hand and ran the ice around his tight and crinkled hole and then down to his balls, prompting him to yelp and attempt to snap his legs closed but for the blond between them propping them open.

 

By this time the hard angles had mostly melted off, leaving a nearly spherical chunk of ice slightly smaller than a golf ball. Jimmy’s pale, beautiful arse was marked with splotches of red from the slaps and bites and Robert paused to admire his handiwork. Then, just as Jimmy was getting restless and about to order him around, he took the ice and shoved it past the tight ring of muscles until it disappeared with a pop.

 

Jimmy gasped and threw his head up, “Fuck!”

 

Robert quickly followed the ice with his cock, rubbing it through the trickle of icy water left in Jimmy’s crack. He was surprised to find that he wanted it like this. He had been concentrating so hard on doing what Jimmy would want that he had never noticed how wonderful it was to take control from him for a little while. To use his body as a receptacle. To have sex fast and rough, more like a dirty fight than an elegant dance. Inspiration struck, much as it often did in these moments and he pulled away, flipping the slight man over onto his back.

 

Roger made a faint protesting sound over the loss of the tongue up his bumhole. Robert hauled him up beside him and said, shortly, “Both of us, his mouth, together.”

 

Roger gaped at him, “H—how?”

 

“We’ll do turns,” Robert explained, with a smile he knew was quite winning. “You first.”

 

Not much encouragement was necessary. _He is something of a quick study_ , Robert thought approvingly, watching him fuck Jimmy’s mouth, slowly at first and then with increasing vigor. From behind, he could see Jimmy’s point about narcissism, it _was_ almost like watching himself fuck and he admired the sweat-tousled cascade of blond hair, the way powerful muscles clenched and relaxed in his ass and the way Jimmy’s toes curled and tensed against the mattress with every down stroke.

 

Right when he thought that Roger might be starting to lose composure, he pulled him back and took his turn. He nearly had to tap out right away, though, as he was nearly overcome by the wet hot slide of Jimmy’s tongue on the underside of his cock, the bump of his head on the back of Jimmy’s throat and the small choking gasps he was making.

 

They fell into something of a rhythm. Just as one was about to burst from the pleasure of it all, he threw himself away and sprawled out recovering while the other took over. It must have seemed endless for Jimmy, after a few rotations, tears were streaming down the sides of his face and soaking the hair at his temples and his breath was coming in great gasps in the short break between them.

 

Robert broke first, misjudging his last turn and overstaying for half a stroke too long. As soon as he pulled away, his hand was wrapped around his saliva-soaked cock and he was powerless to stay the quick sharp pumps. Roger nearly leap forward and Jimmy took him in to the very base and then he was coming, too deep down Jimmy’s throat for him to even need to swallow. Robert cried out at the sight and came all over Roger’s backside, wringing himself out with his own hand for the second time that night. He couldn’t even say he had any regrets.

 

Roger pulled away from Jimmy with a moan and threw himself down on the piled pillows against the headboard. “ _God_ ,” he gasped.

 

Robert sat back on his heels and focused on getting his breathing under control. He knew that he was nearly spent, but there was one last thing that he wanted. Something that wouldn’t count if he had to ask for it, something that would only matter if he was invited. Robert wasn’t use to things not working out for him, at least in the long run, and he wasn’t going to let a prickly guitarist or the limitations of his own body change that now. He stared down at the rumpled sheets between his knees, listening as Jimmy and Roger’s ragged breathing slowed down and smoothed out.

 

“Can you…?” Jimmy gasped out. Robert looked up, trying hard not to move too abruptly or seem to triumphantly joyful. He took in the sight of Jimmy spread out on his bed in a tangle of sheets, lips still swollen and glistening from being wrapped around his cock. He felt strangely drained and simultaneously full of insatiable need. He could feel Roger watching the two of them. His eyes slid down the length of Jimmy’s marble smooth slender frame to where his cock lay hard and flat against his belly. _Hard from blowing us…me_ , he thought _, hard for me_. He swallowed and miraculously felt something slowly begin to unwind deep in his groin.

 

Jimmy noticed it too. His eyes flicked down and then back up with a cocked eyebrow. “You’re an animal.”

 

Robert remembered at the last moment to be flippant. “Why, thank you, you cheeky thing.” He knelt between Jimmy’s legs and hitched the guitarist’s hips up nearly into his lap, pushing his knees apart and towards his chest. Robert had become well acquainted with this view of Jimmy spread open for him these last two nights yet, still, it took his breath away. He traced the soft, crinkled skin around Jimmy’s hole, up the expanse to his balls, lightly cupping them before clutching his cock for a couple quick pumps. He was surprised at the sudden rush of tender fondness he felt for his bandmate, but then he figured that as a man on the cusp of his third orgasm in so many hours, he was probably more of a sloshing mess of hormones than a new mother.

 

Roger handed him the lube and then settled back into the pillows. Robert flashed him a smile of thanks. “Alright there?”

 

“It’s a wonderful view.” Robert chuckled a little and slicked his hand and cock with the contents of the tube. He lingered on himself for a while, concentrating on building the reserves that he would need to do this one more time. Jimmy was still smeared with his drying come and the marks on his delicate skin were even more red and angry, if that was possible, purpling to bruises in places. Robert found that getting hard wasn’t really all that hard. He snickered at the pun.

 

Jimmy looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Are you completely mental?”

 

He laughed louder. “Not really something you want to be wondering about somebody who has you in this position.”

 

“I tell myself that every day,” Jimmy muttered.

 

“What was that?” Robert asked, lifting his hips higher and positioning himself just barely breaching Jimmy’s entrance.

 

“I said th—oh, ghngh. Oh, holy mother of fuck!” Jimmy cried out as Robert buried himself in one fast plunge.

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

He started fucking Jimmy in earnest then, aware that he was grinning in that open, joyful and slightly manic way that was apt to earn an eye roll from Jimmy. The older man seemed to have his mind on other things, however, he was breathing in short, sharp huffs and gritting his teeth. He exalted in the sensations as his cock slide in and out of Jimmy’s clutching tight rectum. He didn’t have to hold back at all, his previous efforts had taken all the edge off. There was no chance of the moment ending too soon. Robert reflected that he loved fucking someone in this position. He had absolutely all the control, there was nowhere that Jimmy could go to escape his onslaught and he could see every expression that passed over his face.

 

Epiphany struck again and Robert leaned forward and wrapped his hands around Jimmy’s slender throat. “Yessss,” Jimmy said in a hiss of expelled air. “Harder.”

 

Not quite sure if Jimmy meant the fucking or the strangling, Robert went for both, the muscles in the backs of his thighs screaming out for him to slow down, to stop, anything. Robert ignored them and focused on that place deep in his groin where he imagined his orgasm as a knot of energy, as a slowly filling and explosively discharging hot spring geyser. It was nearly spent and holding him hard on fumes and pure animal arousal, but he knew that if he concentrated enough he could force just one more from it.

 

Robert’s hands twitched, pushing Jimmy deeper into the mattress. He gritted his teeth, he was so close to the tipping point and yet it kept eluding him, maddeningly. He glanced over at Roger who was bent over his hand desperately, pumping with a manic frenzy and watching the two of them, enthralled. Robert inhaled sharply and his stomach lurched with desire. He did so love putting on a show.

 

“Robert…” Jimmy choked out.

 

“What is it, darling?” he gasped, not sure if he was about to come or hyperventilate.

 

“Rob…I lo—ah…oh, God, nah—I nee—fuck, Rob, I want you.”

 

 _That’s going to have to be good enough_ , Robert thought. It wasn’t, of course, it wasn’t nearly bloody good enough, but Robert’s body seemed to be having other ideas. He released Jimmy’s neck and felt the build of his orgasm just as Jimmy clenched around him, tight and hot and wet. It peaked and crashed over him quickly, like a rogue wave, and left him aching and dryly spent, falling to pieces collapsed with his forehead pressed to Jimmy’s chest. Distantly, he heard Roger’s short gasp followed by a low moan of release.

 

The position gave him the perfect view as Jimmy came in quick succession. The sight of himself, still buried in the other man as he spilled out his seed nearly in Robert’s face drove the lingering doubts from Robert’s mind for the time being. _A month, Robert_ , he told himself sternly, _that’s how long you need to hold out. That’s all_.

 

He extracted himself delicately from the tangle of limbs and did his best to mop up the worst of the mess with a bit of the linens they wouldn’t be directly under. Then he lay down carefully between Jimmy and Roger, thinking vague, formless thoughts and staring at the fine hairs on Jimmy’s upper arm. Gradually, he heard Roger’s breathing slow and even out.

 

For once, Robert didn’t feel like falling asleep.

 

“Now what happens?” Robert asked, watching Jimmy carefully. His eyes had drifted closed but they slowly opened again and focused on Robert in surprise.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“We’ve given each other a mind-blowing orgasm. Several of them, in fact.” He kept his voice light and even, a feat that took nearly all his power. He could feel it threatening to break from the emotion of all the fucking and the implications of what he was asking. “What now? We go back to recording—Led Zeppelin…III, or whatever, like nothing’s happened? I shriek and moan along to your guitar like I haven’t been shrieking and moaning to your cock up my bum?”

 

“Don’t be such a girl, Perce.” Jimmy did not blink or even look at him.

 

“I’m serious, Jim. I’m allowed to be serious.” In his mind, his statement was bold and authoritative. _Not a hint of whining_.

 

“Nothing has to happen. Nothing has changed. We can just go on like this.”

 

Robert closed his eyes. It was the answer he had hoped to God not to hear. The answer he’d expected but still, not the one he’d wished for.

 

***

 

Robert woke up to darkness, unsure what exactly had roused him. He stretched luxuriously and noticed a warm, empty indentation in his bed.

 

He found Roger on the balcony, staring out into the darkness and smoking a pilfered cigarette.

 

“Can I bum a fag?” he asked casually, coming up behind the other man.

 

“I think that you’ve conclusively proved that one,” Roger replied dryly, not sparing him a glance.

 

“Haha, very funny. You’ve been spending too much time in America.”

 

Roger sighed and tossed a pack of Jimmy’s cigarettes at him. Robert snagged the pack out of the air and shook out a cigarette

 

“I think I’ve made a mistake.”

 

“Mmm, yes, it’s always the third go that you regret after.” Robert mused. “At the time of course, it’s hard to stop but afterward it’s all soreness in places you didn’t expect and unbelievable amounts of stickiness…”

 

“No, not that…hmm, well maybe that. But not only that!” Roger quickly replied.

 

Robert chuckled under his breath, watching the other man in the bathing glow of the three quarters moon. He felt as though Roger’s melancholy was slowly infecting him too, triggering the latent seeds of doubt deep within him and replacing the glow of the plan going so well. It all was combining to make him question if the plan would work out after all. He knew that Jimmy’s reticence had been anticipated, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

 

“This…” Roger gestured vaguely. “Has been a lark, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I thought it might. When I realized what Pete and Jimmy…and you…had done, God, I had never felt jealousy like that before.”

 

Robert felt a pang of guilt. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know you felt that strongly about Pete, to be honest.”

 

“Huh,” Roger snorted. “I guess I didn’t know either, for that matter.”

 

“Well, see? My mission is already paying off.” Robert lit the cigarette and leaned against the rail to smoke it, the smoke curling out and away into the darkness. He was aware the Roger was watching him closely. It made him feel self-conscience in a way that eyes on him rarely did. He wondered if normal people felt like this all the time.

 

“What’s in it for you? It seems like a lot of work for just the satisfaction of meddling in some near strangers’ fucked up love lives,” Roger said with a snort.

 

“Oh, well, the sex. Don’t forget the sex,” Robert said with false brightness, wishing it wouldn’t be completely transparent to the other man if he tried to hide behind his hair.

 

“Oh, yeah, of course the sex…but there are thousands willing to throw themselves at _you_ of all people. So why us? And why drag Jimmy into it…”

 

Robert must have let something slip in his face although he had been trying so carefully to hold his expression neutral. He had never before thought of Roger Daltrey as an intuitive or observant man, but as understanding began to spread across Roger’s face, he ceded he may not have been giving him his due.

 

“Oh…” Roger was quiet for a moment. “So that’s the way it is.”

 

Robert sighed. _Now the cat’s out of the bag, no use in playing coy._ “I love him,” Robert said simply. “I know he can be a right bastard sometimes…he’s irritable most of the time and he always knows just what to say to make you feel the worst about yourself. And, fuck, he won’t hesitate to say it. But I love him just the same. It doesn’t make any sense at all…except, what would my life have been like without him?

 

“So that’s how it is. Quite ridiculous, really, like something out of a romance novel. But—but if it was a story, the star-crossed lovers would be falling into each other’s arms by now. It—it’s just that he doesn’t see me, not really.” Robert heard the catch in his voice and hated it. He swallowed and continued, doggedly. “He sees a tool that is good at getting him what he wants—fame…money…lovers. He doesn’t see that I could _be_ all that he wants. For as smart as Jimmy is, he is really quite a stupid man.”

 

Roger didn’t say anything for a while. Then he let out a short bark of laughter and pushed his hair back out of his face. “It sounds like you’ve just described Pete.”

 

Robert looked at Roger’s profile in the moonlight. He was filled with a sudden rush of affection and comradery for the other man. “You know, I would have never have guessed we’d turn out to be so much alike.”

 

Roger laughed again. “Me neither. Me and Robert Plant? Somebody would’ve had to been joking.”

 

“High and mighty Robert Plant,” he reminded with a quirked eyebrow.

 

“Oh, God,” Roger moaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re never going to forget that, are you?”

 

His laughter pealed out into the quiet night. His amusement quickly faded as he remembered the rest of his plans for the newborn day. “It will all work out in the end,” he said with a jovialness that sounded strained even to his own ears. “He will see, he has to.” Neither of them wondered which he Robert was referring to.

 

Roger stubbed out the cigarette on the rail, looking at the pattern of soot and ash thoughtfully. “I should call him. He’s probably worked himself into a downward spiral of broken expectations and self-loathing by now.”

 

 “I wish you luck,” he said with feeling, hoping some of that luck would rebound onto him.

 

“Ha. You too. I think you’re going to need it even more than me.” Roger flashed a half-smile and turned to go. “I need a ride too. I can use your phone, right?” he said over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, there’s one in the kitchen. I’d take you, but there’s a couple things I want to finish up here.”

 

“No worries, mate. I’ll be fine.” Roger strolled away into the dark house, looking as nonchalant as Robert wished he felt.

 

Robert padded back to the bedroom and slipped inside the bed, careful not to rouse his sleeping bandmate. He stared at the still figure as he clutched his knees to his chest, the chill of the outside night air still clinging to his skin.

 

It was a cliché, of course, but Jimmy really did look softer in his sleep. Robert could see the boy that he had never known in person, but had come to know through old photographs and broadcast recordings. When they had first met, flashes of that boy snuck through much more often than now, when he was surprised by a joke, when other musicians complimented him. Now it seemed that Jimmy’s shy joy had been replaced by cynicism, mystic distraction and aloof pride.

 

Robert realized he was twisting the sheets around his hands hard enough to cut off circulation. He slowly released them, concentrating on calming himself. _The plan will work_ , he repeated as a mantra, _don’t worry about the plan, worry about executing the plan._

 

He waited until it got light and then got up and rummaged in his bag until he found the envelope. He stared at the plane tickets with a certain amount of trepidation. _Okay, this is it_ , he thought. _Just how confident are you in this plan, Percy, my boy?_

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Jimmy’s groggy voice cut the stillness of dawn.

 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.


End file.
